A Day in This Dandy Life
by RosieGamgee
Summary: ***Chapter 7-IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE***For once Harry's life is a bit like normal, until Hermione throws some surprising news at him. H/Hr, R/every women on the planet, G/D, no OotP spoilers!!
1. Home

Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter characters.  
  
A/N: So, I've taken a step away from my original calling of writing Ginny/Harry fics and moved on to a better, slightly more believable ship. Though, in spirit, I know this won't happen in canon EVER, these two make the BEST couple in the world.  
  
Chapter 1: Home  
  
"And so enters our protagonist, the wizarding world's most eligible bachelor, and four time defeater of Voldemort, Harry James Potter!"  
  
"The crowd goes wild!"  
  
"You two are so childish? The biggest prats ever."  
  
"Sure, he can duel, and he can fly, but can he do the unthinkable? MAKE DINNER??"  
  
Ron and Hermione collapsed into a fit of laughter on the kitchen floor.  
  
"I'm serious. Do you two ever get tired of making fun of me and my cooking?" Harry walked towards his room to drop off his Quidditch gear. "Hermione, where's my-"  
  
"On your pillow."  
  
Harry's equipment fell to the floor with a clatter. A few moments later, Harry walked out of his room wearing his favorite jumper and a pair of worn out jeans.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He threw a smile at Hermione as he turned towards the stove. Ron and Hermione had re-perched themselves on the barstools that sat next to the wrap around island, Ron nursing his usual after work ale and Hermione working her way through her second cup of tea. The trio fit comfortably in the large kitchen of Harry's flat, in which they took all their meals. Ron and Hermione's flats had kitchens, but not big enough to cook much more than a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal.  
  
The three shared the top floor of a building in Diagon Alley, overlooking the main road. Their rooms sat above Ollivander's wand shop, for which they paid Mr. Ollivander a minimal amount of money to stay. They had offered more, but the shopkeeper would hear none of it, as long as they promised to visit him once and a while when business got slow. Harry had taken to helping Mr. Ollivander during the off season, which happened to be when the most students were looking for wands.  
  
The three 22-year-old Hogwarts graduates lived comfortably above the shop, frequenting each other's flats for various activities. They ate in Harry's flat, talked in Hermione's and made a general mess in Ron's playing Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess when the urge took them.  
  
Harry played Quidditch for the English National Team which took up a lot of his time during the season, but the three always managed to eat together when Harry was in town training or playing in a match. Ron worked with his father at the Ministry of Magic, doing a lot of the research and many times going out to check on a report of a magical muggle object. Hermione worked for the Ministry as well, assisting the Head of the Office of Experimental Charms.  
  
The icebox door squeaked open as Harry shoved his head inside of it.  
  
"Don't you two keep food in here when I'm gone?"  
  
"Of course we do, Harry. We just empty it when you get back so you can't cook anything," Hermione giggled.  
  
Harry threw Hermione a look. "We need to go shopping. Some one get a piece of parchment."  
  
"The only thing we have left is the joke letterhead you made for Ron," Hermione answered, brandishing a piece of parchment. The parchment was topped with scrawl-like green writing, bearing the words, 'Ronald S. Weasley: Manwhore Extraordinaire'. Chuckling, Harry took the paper and summoned a quill.  
  
*~*  
  
"So, it's not that bad is it?" Harry asked, raising his eyes to look at his friends.  
  
"It's would take a person of great skill to mess up spaghetti and canned sauce, Harry."  
  
"Like you for instance, Ron? I seem to remember losing one of my better pans to your spaghetti and canned sauce."  
  
"I had other things going on!"  
  
"Just like you, Ronald, trying to shag while cooking dinner. I hope you learned your lesson!" Hermione scolded, though not very harshly.  
  
Ron shot her a look and continued to eat his dinner.  
  
"So, Harry, how do our chances look for the World Cup? Pity about last year, losing the last game because you were out with that wrist injury?"  
  
Harry winced at the memory and rubbed his wrist. "Yeah. Still hurts when it rains. But our chances look good. I wish we could've gotten Oliver though. Playing for Wales now, he is. Now no one can score on them, but their chasers can't score themselves."  
  
"So you reckon you lot with get in this year?"  
  
"Aye. No contest. Two more games left, and we're facing Wales next. Then whoever wins the Luxembourg/Italy game, and we've beaten both of them before. But, we'll still get to celebrate when we beat them again." Harry raised his beer and clinked it with Ron's.  
  
"You two and your parties."  
  
"You'll come, won't you Hermione? I mean, it'll be the World Cup Semifinals!"  
  
Hermione gave them an appraising look before breaking down into a smile.  
  
"Of course I'll come. Just promise you two won't get too out of hand."  
  
Wide childlike grins plastered themselves across Harry and Ron's faces.  
  
*~*  
  
Hermione called goodnight to Ron as he exited her flat. Harry and Hermione sat on Hermione's couch together, sharing a blanket.  
  
"So, did you miss me?" Harry shot her one of his smiles that made her heart melt.  
  
"Mister Harry Potter, you have such an overlarge head. You were gone for three days."  
  
"So. I think three days is a sufficient amount of time for me to be gone and expect my best friend to miss me."  
  
"You know what I miss? I miss peace and quiet, which I get when you're not around!"  
  
Harry gave her shin a sharp kick, which initiated a game of footsie between the two. Hermione's squealing laughter earned them a loud pound on the wall from Ron next door. She pulled her legs into an Indian style position and gave Harry a hard look. Harry just laughed it off and got up to walk towards her kitchen for another cup of tea.  
  
Hermione watched Harry walk, blown away by the way simple words he said attracted her to him. She loved Harry Potter, and had ever since fifth year, but every time she tried to say something to him, the words seemed to get caught in her throat, unable to come out. She had been brooding over her best friend for almost seven years now, but he had yet to show any interest in her.  
  
True, he never dated other girls for longer than two dates since school ended, and always took her with him when he had Quidditch dinners to go to, sparking another round of rumors about the two having some kind of relationship. But Harry always calmly denied it, explaining time and time again how their relationship was strictly platonic. Still, she enjoyed the envious glares she got from other women when she showed up on his arm and the grin that he always flashed at her when she said something exceptionally witty. He also had this glow about him, always making him seem young and naïve, which he capped off by being hopelessly immature.  
  
"So, what did you think of Jenna?"  
  
"Who?" Hermione snapped out of her thought quickly. She ran through a list of people in her head, Jenna not ringing a bell at all.  
  
"Jenna, the girl I brought over before I left."  
  
Now Hermione remembered. She shook her head. "Not your type."  
  
"I have a type? I haven't a girlfriend long enough to have a type." Harry plopped back down onto the couch, handing Hermione another cup of tea.  
  
"You need someone to take care of you, Harry. Someone who knows you. Like a friend." Hermione cringed slightly after she said that.  
  
"Like Ginny?" Harry threw her a smile.  
  
"No. Not like Ginny. Someone who's not married would definitely be preferential."  
  
"Parvati?" Harry made a face as he said this.  
  
"I think you answered your own question." They sat silent for a minute.  
  
"You?"  
  
Hermione sat bolt straight. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I was kidding Hermione, relax." Hermione relaxed back into the couch.  
  
"So were giving Jenna the definite thumbs down?" Hermione nodded. "Alright. The reason I was asking was because I was trying to figure out if I wanted her to come with me to the gala. But if you give her the thumbs down, I guess I'll just have to ask you to accompany me as always. I'm sure you'll be much better company anyway. You up for it? Saturday night?"  
  
Hermione gave a fake of sigh of discontent. "I guess so. Another night of eating free gourmet food and chatting it up with exceedingly handsome Quidditch players wasn't how I envisioned my Saturday night, but I guess I can deal with it. For you of course."  
  
"Of course," Harry added in an offhanded way.  
  
"And I'll have to go get a new dress. I do hate shopping," Hermione added with a smirk. "Are you going to wear the green shirt with the black tie, or the black shirt with the green tie?"  
  
"Am I that predictable?" Hermione nodded, barely stifling the giggles that were threatening to seep out of the corners of her mouth. "Well, I'll have to decide quick, because we have to go up to Ireland for this one."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Ireland?"  
  
"Yeah. You sure you still want to come?"  
  
"Of course!" 


	2. Ireland and the Return of Sauve Mr Wood

A/N: Wow! Didn't think I'd get that kind of response from people! And for the reviewer who was worried about Harry reciprocating the feelings for Hermione, just wait!  
  
Chapter 2: Ireland and the Return of Suave Mr. Wood  
  
Harry laughed to himself as he pulled on his dress shirt. Hermione had been right in asking which one he was going to wear. He was sure he had other colors than black and green, but he had turned out to be sorely mistaken. His best friend knew his wardrobe better than he did.  
  
She never ceased to amaze him when it came to knowing everything about him; the way she fussed over him and always knew exactly what to say at exactly the right time; the way she always put up with him and his Quidditch Galas. It had gotten to the point where asking anyone else to go with him seemed unnatural. The team loved her and always threw good-natured teasing their way. It felt right.  
  
But it was oh so wrong! Harry couldn't put on the façade anymore. He couldn't pretend to be "just her friend" any longer. Seven years of doing just that had worn thin on him. There had been plenty of moments for Harry to say something about it, but he never could bring himself to form the words. He was head-over-heels in love with Hermione Granger.  
  
Harry sighed as he shrugged on his dress coat (he had decided on the green shirt with the black tie, coat, and pants) and reached for the door to the common room of the hotel room he and Hermione were sharing. As the door swung open, a stunning woman in a forest-green dress caught Harry's eye.  
  
"That's new."  
  
"Yeah. Ginny and I went shopping the other day while you and Ron went out with Draco. Is it okay?"  
  
Harry's breath was caught in his throat.  
  
"Hermione, you look beautiful."  
  
Hermione blushed slightly and giggled, but regained composure almost immediately.  
  
"You ready to go, Mr. "Strikingly Handsome" Potter?"  
  
Harry grinned at her and walked to the door. Holding it open for her, he pinched her side mischievously and she jumped.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Harry pushed her out the door and locked it behind them.  
  
"Let's get this show on the road."  
  
*~*  
  
"So there's Harry, lying on the ground, passed out, while Fred and George Weasley are wrestling this rogue bludger into the chest and Gilderoy Lockhart comes up. As soon as Harry wakes up, he starts shouting for Lockhart to get away from him, but he's insisting he can mend Harry's broken arm in a flash. All I see is a spark and all the bones in Harry's arm are gone!"  
  
The table laughed loudly, as Harry blushed, sinking into his chair.  
  
"You can't resist telling that story, can you Wood?"  
  
"Not a chance, Potter. There's too many ways to embarrass you," Oliver Wood responded hitting his former prize Seeker on the shoulder.  
  
The table of Quidditch players laughed uproariously again as Harry scratched the back of his neck.  
  
"Oh come on now, Harry, there are much better stories to tell about you while you were in school," Hermione giggled, poking Harry squarely in the chest.  
  
Harry threw her a look that said "Do it and die."  
  
"This one time, back when we were Head Girl and Boy, I caught Harry dancing in our common room. It was a most horrendous sight, as Harry is not the best dancer when he's not focusing on it."  
  
Harry practically steamed from the ears.  
  
"So I walk over to the wireless that was on the back table and turn it off. Well, I must have given Harry quite a fright, because he turned around so quickly the rug slipped out from under him and he ended up on the floor."  
  
The Quidditch players laughed again, this time loud enough to attract attention from other tables.  
  
"Hey Potter, mind if I ask your girlfriend here for a dance?" Oliver asked across the table, giving Harry a satisfied smirk.  
  
"Please. Get her out of my sight," Harry responded emphatically, giving Hermione a disgusted smile.  
  
Hermione stood up, smiling sweetly back at Harry, giving him a sharp smack on the back of the head, and followed after Oliver. Harry watched her walk away with Wood, laughing to himself.  
  
"She's mental, that one."  
  
Harry had been left at the table with most of his own team: their beaters, McCoy and Walker, their keeper, Jeffry O'Neill, and one of their three chasers, Meghan Brady. They laughed at Harry's comment.  
  
"So, really, Potter, what's going on with you and Granger?" Walker asked, looking towards Wood and Hermione who were dancing near the front of the room.  
  
"That depends. Do you mean what do I want to go on, or what's really going on?"  
  
"There's a difference?"  
  
Harry nodded and looked up at Hermione again, who was laughing with Wood as they danced.  
  
"Ooo, Harry Potter's got it bad for his sidekick."  
  
"That's so sweet."  
  
"Brady. It's not sweet. It's devious, because now we can hold it over Potter's head," Jeffry replied, throwing Harry an evil grin.  
  
"You all are bloody too much." Harry pushed his chair away from the table and walked off towards Hermione and Oliver.  
  
*~*  
  
"So, really, Oliver, why did you go over to Luxembourg? I would have thought you were going to stay the rest of your life on the Scottish team. Or at least with Harry in England."  
  
"I do what my agent tells me to. I would have loved to stay in Scotland, or even England, but my agent kept telling me I'd be overshadowed by Potter. Not that I wasn't in school, or the fact that it doesn't bother me. Oh well, I only have to finish out the year with them, then I can try and move teams. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm a fair keeper."  
  
"The best there is."  
  
Hermione and Oliver danced a few moments in silence until-  
  
"Can I cut in?"  
  
"Why Potter, I'm honored, but really, I just don't swing that way," Oliver responded, eliciting a small chuckle from Hermione.  
  
"Not you, Wood. The girl." Harry tried to suppress his laughter.  
  
"Oh, but of course." Oliver kissed Hermione's hand in mock gentlemen's fashion and started back to the table.  
  
"I see we've forgiven me," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow as Harry wrapped his arms around her waist.  
  
"Perhaps. Or perhaps I got tired of sitting with the team and I needed a break and you were the only choice."  
  
"You just don't know when to stop, do you Potter?"  
  
"What can I say? You make a fool out of me." Harry smiled at Hermione.  
  
*~*  
  
Three hours later found the two friends stumbling back to their room, a bit inebriated from the champagne.  
  
"You certainly seemed taken with Oliver tonight, Hermione. Perhaps I shouldn't let you see him anymore," Harry joked as he shut the door, tripping a bit as he did.  
  
"Ollie Wood? Never. Not my type at all. If truth be told, I'm quite taken with another Quidditch star."  
  
"Not Krum again?"  
  
"No, no, no. Big burly guys just don't rub me the right way." Hermione stumbled clumsily onto the couch.  
  
"Don't rub you the right way, eh? So you dig us scrawny pale guys?" Harry plopped himself down next to her and picked up one of her feet.  
  
Hermione sighed contently. "Harry Potter's famous foot massage. Now that's rubbing me the right way."  
  
Hermione collapsed into a fit of giggles, resting her head on Harry shoulder.  
  
"Are you coming on to me, Ms. Granger?"  
  
"And why would I do a preposterous thing like that, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Because I'm irresistible."  
  
"You have a big head, Harry Potter."  
  
"So what if I do? At least I know the truth. I'm practically perfect in every way." Harry switched her feet around in his lap and picked up the other one. "In fact, there's only one person I know who is quite as perfect as I am."  
  
"Now you're really getting a big head."  
  
"Bah! Never!"  
  
"So who is this mystery person, this beyond perfect human being? Not Ollie is it?"  
  
Harry face contorted with a mixture of disgust and laughter.  
  
"Wood? Perfect? No way. I was actually speaking about someone a bit closer to me."  
  
"Ron?"  
  
Harry laughed out loud at this suggestion.  
  
"Oh, Hermione, you can always make laugh." Harry hiccuped.  
  
"A little too much to drink tonight, I think."  
  
"No such thing as too much to drink," Harry responded, getting up from the couch and heading towards the mini-bar. "In fact- -"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry rummaged for a FireWhiskey.  
  
"How can you drink that stuff, Harry? It tastes like burning."  
  
Harry shrugged as he downed the complementary bottle and rummaged to find another. A sharp knock on the door ripped his attention away from the mini- bar.  
  
"Potter! You still in there?"  
  
"The man of the hour! Come on in!"  
  
A disheveled Oliver Wood walked through the door into the room Hermione and Harry were sharing.  
  
"Harry! Oh, hello 'ermione," Wood slurred, obviously having had a touch more to drink than even Harry that evening. "Enjoy the party?"  
  
"Very much so."  
  
"So, Hermione, what's going on with you and Potter? Cause the word on the street has been the same for the past 6 years. Sharing a room, going to the second biggest Gala of the year together."  
  
"Ollie, we always share a room, and name one gala, reception, or after match party we haven't gone to together."  
  
Wood laughed to himself. "Ya know, you're the only one who calls me Ollie besides Katie. And Fred and George when they need a laugh."  
  
Harry began to rummage through the mini-bar again, having drained two more Ogden's while Hermione and Oliver had been talking.  
  
"Can I get you something to drink Oliver?"  
  
"Not out of that puny thing. And besides, you seemed to have drained it of my drink of choice. What would you say to a trip down to the lobby bar? I daresay I could still put away half a litre of Ogden's before I pass out."  
  
"Hermione, you want to come?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"You boys go on and have fun. I'll be here when you get back."  
  
Harry threw Hermione a wavering smile, kissed her on the forehead and walked towards the door, following Wood.  
  
"Sleep well, Hermione."  
  
Harry blew her another kiss before stepping out the door.  
  
*~*  
  
Th next morning, Hermione woke to find a definite lack of something in the room. Harry had never come back up the night before, which is why she found herself sleeping sideways on the couch. She pulled her hair hastily back into a ponytail, grabbed her robe, and headed towards the lobby. She found Harry nursing a coffee in the bar, shading his eyes and wincing at the slightest sound.  
  
"Good morning, Harry."  
  
"And what's so good about it?"  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't have drunken so much last night. Where did you end up sleeping?"  
  
"On Wood's couch. They kicked us out of here around three, so we went back up to Oliver's room and cleaned out his supply of Ogden's. Last thing I remember was telling him how much I love - -" Harry stopped mid sentence, finally aware of who he was talking to.  
  
"How much you love- -?"  
  
"Um, Quidditch. How much I love Quidditch and playing professionally. Been worried, he has, about how the game has been treating me. You know Oliver. Always looking out for his star seeker." Harry stumbled through his words, seeming to figure them out as he said them.  
  
Hermione turned abruptly towards the curtains and pursed her lips. That was not at all what she was hoping he was going to say.  
  
"You okay, Hermione?"  
  
"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. What would you say to a stroll after breakfast? I fix you up a hangover potion while you're in the shower, we can have some breakfast downstairs and then we can go exploring for a little before we have to head back."  
  
"Sure. Sounds great." Harry drained his cup of coffee and took his best friend by the arm. One more slip like that and he would be done for on the Hermione Granger front. 


	3. A Walk in the Park and Returning Home

A/N: So, I had this idea, about Harry and cheese, which came from the fact that I was eating cheese at the time, and it was totally stupid. Which leads me to point out that a lot of conversations I write between people in my fics are solely because I happen to be thinking about certain things at the time (case in point-in Change in Perspective I write about Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Hannah talking about Kinder Eggs and the toys inside them and how they're illegal in Britain and the United States-I had just finished talking to my friend, who had just spent a month in Germany, and brought me back a few of these "Illegal German Chocolates"-and truthfully, there is something satisfying about eating candy that's prohibited by the Government.)  
  
Anyway, I say this in response to a review I got by email asking me where I get my ideas for some of these kooky conversations these guys have, and it can all be explained by stating I have a disorder which does not allow me to filter my thoughts and causes me to type whatever I'm thinking about at the time (not really). So, in conclusion, if anyone wishes to read the section I wrote about Harry and "the single most satisfying food in the world" let me know. I saved it somewhere to read and laugh at myself about.  
  
Sorry this chapter is so short. School is ending so I'm a bit busy with some other things as well, but never too busy for a cliffie! So Review and perhaps the next chapter will be longer (I can almost guarantee it will be, cuz it's half done and longer than this one already).  
  
*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 3: A Walk in the Park and Returning Home  
  
"Really, Harry. You're going to hurt yourself."  
  
"It's just grass Hermione. Nothing here will cut my feet."  
  
Harry feet traipsed through the grass while Hermione watched, a look of udder disapproval on her face. Harry had discarded his shoes at the park entrance and was insisting on walking through without them.  
  
"You should really try it. There's nothing that feels better than grass on your toes." Harry threw her a mischievous smile and ran off.  
  
"That boy will be the death of me," Hermione muttered while taking off her shoes and following Harry.  
  
The hangover potion had worked better than usual and Harry was back to his original playful self in no time. After a large breakfast, the two had headed out to take a walk around.  
  
"So, Hermione, darling, tell me. Who are you crushing on?" Harry said with a drawl spinning Hermione by her hands and landing them both on the ground.  
  
"What makes you think I'm "crushing" on anyone?" Hermione's face turned a pale shade of pink as she answered.  
  
"Well, let's see. You haven't dated any one since school ended, and you walk around with this dazed kind of look your face. It's not Ron, is it?" Harry's face lit up as he mentioned this.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Alright, alright. Malfoy?"  
  
"He's Ginny's husband. Of course I'm not attracted to him."  
  
"Lil' Ollie Wood?"  
  
"Now there's a thought I could entertain. But I think Mr. Wood is quite taken with the dear Ms. Katie Bell. And besides, Harry, you know you'll always be my boy. Whomever I'm "crushing on" will have to stand aside at least until you get married."  
  
Harry laughed. "Me? Married? Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, with a wife? You must be dreaming."  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments, Hermione pulling up clover flowers and tying them together.  
  
"Am I really your boy?"  
  
"You'll always be my boy, Harry. I have to watch you and make sure you don't get yourself in any trouble. Ron as well."  
  
Harry laid himself down in the grass to watch the clouds.  
  
"What about you Mr. Potter? Any girls caught your fancy lately?"  
  
"One."  
  
"Really? Do tell!"  
  
"Well, she's smart, and loyal, extremely beautiful."  
  
"Does she know?"  
  
Harry turned over and propped himself up on his elbows.  
  
"I don't think so. She's quite sharp though, so she may have some sort of inkling."  
  
"Any girl would be daft not to notice you, Harry."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Of course! Besides the fact that you're Harry Potter, THE boy-who-lived, Quidditch Seeker for the English National Team, and one of Witch Weekly's 10 Most Eligible Bachelors, you're sweet, funny, loyal, caring, sensitive, and, no matter how much we tease you, one of the best cooks I know." Hermione gave Harry a grin.  
  
"Now that you mention it, I am quite the catch."  
  
"Not to mention the most modest person I know," she added sarcastically.  
  
*~*  
  
After arriving home, Hermione left the flat to go to work for a little while. Harry threw himself onto one of Ron's chairs as Ron searched the fridge for a couple beers.  
  
"So, Harry, what's going on? You were all spaced out the other night." Ron sat down in the chair across from Harry after handing him a beer.  
  
Harry gave Ron a thorough once over and sighed.  
  
"If I tell you, you have to PROMISE not to say a word to anyone. Not even Hermione. ESPECIALLY Hermione."  
  
Ron nodded as he leaned back into the chair.  
  
"I'm in love with Hermione."  
  
Of any number of reactions that Ron could have had, the one he chose was not the most pleasant by anyone's standards. Spit beer landed on Harry's glasses, face, and hair.  
  
"Dammit, RON!" Harry yanked his glasses from his face and proceeded to wipe them on his robe.  
  
"I'm sorry mate. You just - - surprised me. Of all the things you could've said, that was one that I never would have guessed." Ron goggled at Harry as he wiped the remaining beer off his face. "You mean our Hermione, right? Hermione Granger? Hermione "Your Best Friend" Granger?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Woah."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Ron pondered the thought for a moment before laughing longer and harder than he ever had in his life.  
  
*~* 


	4. Some Good Natured Fun

A/N: Alright, for those of you who were upset with Ron laughing at Harry about Hermione - - for those who are mad at Ron, he gets his comeuppance in this chapter, and those who are mad at me for making Ron laugh at Harry, it was only to establish the dynamic for the beginning of this chapter. I'd also like to point out how much Ron likes to spit his beer out :)  
  
Responses to some reviews:  
  
Flutterby - - *lol* Such is what happens when your main writing time is one in the morning. Thanks, though, for pointing that out!  
  
Xugra - - I got that from someone else, and I just couldn't resist. It really degrades his manliness. Then again, he seems to take it in stride pretty well. That is why I love our little Ollie Wood!  
  
Lampada - - I think the Simpson's are the root of all that is funny in this world. Everyone needs to see that episode. "These berries taste like burning!" Hahaha.  
  
Draco_Fan - - I'm not too sure if I'm going to add much Ginny/Draco in this fic except for mentioning it in passing, and perhaps having them go out for dinner sometime with the trio and who ever Ron is shagging at the time. I'll think about it though.  
  
So, here we are at the start of a new chapter. Enjoy, and don't forget to review! Also, I'm looking for a beta for this story as mine has gone in search of a topic for her doctorate thesis. Let me know by email (faiarygal@yahoo.com) or in a review!  
  
Chapter 4: Some Good Natured Fun  
  
"What the hell, Ron? You're supposed to be my friend. Be supportive of me. Not laugh at me!"  
  
"I'm sorry Harry. It's just that it explains a lot about everything. Truthfully, I don't know why I didn't see it before."  
  
"Too busy shagging anything that walks?"  
  
"Shut up, Harry."  
  
Harry chuckled as he walked towards the kitchen for another beer.  
  
"You want another one?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks. But, back to the subject at hand, what are you going to do about it?"  
  
Harry sighed.  
  
"I don't know. I can't deal with being just her friend any more."  
  
"Just whose friend?"  
  
Hermione walked purposefully into the room and squished into the same chair as Harry, plucking the bottle of beer from his hand and taking a sip, blanching at the taste.  
  
"If you hate it so much, why do you drink it?" Harry asked, accepting the bottle back from her.  
  
Hermione shrugged.  
  
"So, who are we talking about? Harry's mystery girl?"  
  
Ron spit a mouthful of beer back into the bottle as he tried to contain his laughter. Harry gave Ron a sharp kick in the shin.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"Harry! What was that for?" Hermione snapped looking at him.  
  
"Ron doesn't know how to keep his big mouth shut!" Harry responded, throwing a hard glare at Ron.  
  
"Seriously, Harry, he's just having a chuckle at your expense." Hermione threw Ron a wicked smile.  
  
"Don't you have somewhere to be, Ron? Isn't there some girl demanding your attention this week?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not that I'm aware of," Ron answered amusedly.  
  
Harry shot Ron another look and made to leave the chair.  
  
"Oh come on, Harry! You're not acting like your self. What's wrong?" Hermione pulled him back down by the arm.  
  
"Nothing, really. I just told Ron something and now he sees fit to make a big, gigantic, "Ron-like" deal out of it. I wish he wouldn't though."  
  
"Is it about me?" Hermione looked fretfully at her friend, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. "Did I do something wrong in Ireland? Was it that story I told? It ended up in the paper, didn't it? Oh God, Harry, I'm soooo sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up, it just seemed like a good time. I didn't think that anyone from the Prophet would be hanging around the table."  
  
Harry's eyes widened and he grabbed Hermione's hand. "NO! Hermione, you did everything right in Ireland! You were wonderful! I didn't mean to make you think you did something wrong."  
  
Harry lifted his hands to her cheeks, looking her right in the eyes.  
  
"Hermione, you're perfect. You didn't do a thing wrong."  
  
"If I pick up the Prophet when I get in and I see an article about Harry Soul Train, you'll answer to me, you understand?"  
  
"If it's there, I have no idea about it. And even if I did, I wouldn't get mad at you about it. I could never be mad at you."  
  
"What about that time in third year when I told McGonagall about your Firebolt?  
  
"Well, I mean - -"  
  
"Or that time in sixth year when I went with Draco to that Ball because I felt bad for him?"  
  
"Hermione, what I meant was - -"  
  
"Or a year ago when I got pissed at the World Cup Gala and did a striptease on the Head Table?"  
  
"I NEVER got mad you for that! I seem to remember having a good, long, hard laugh about that. You're pretty cute in just your knickers, Ms. Granger," Harry added, pinching Hermione's side.  
  
Hermione jumped and slapped Harry on his shoulder. Ron had again spit his beer out, but this time onto the floor.  
  
"She did what? Where was I?" Ron asked hurriedly.  
  
"Smoozing some girls at the bar, if I remember correctly."  
  
"We're not going to talk about this," Hermione interjected.  
  
"But, Hermione! You told everyone the falling on my ass/dancing story. Why can't I tell Ron about your drinking too much/stripping for the French Minister of Magic story?"  
  
"THE FRENCH MINISTER OF MAGIC?"  
  
"And his wife."  
  
"Really, I don't think he remembers it at all. He was quite drunk. And so was June." Hermione squirmed uncomfortably under Harry and Ron's gaze.  
  
"It's kind of hard to think of Hermione, OUR Hermione, dancing naked in front of a diplomat."  
  
"I wasn't naked, per se. Just severely under clothed."  
  
"Let me tell you something, Ron. This little girl has more of a body than she lets on."  
  
"Harry!"  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Harry poked his head into Hermione's flat room.  
  
"Hermione, are you still not talking to me?"  
  
"Maybe," Hermione answered from her room. "It depends on whether you're sorry or not."  
  
"I still don't understand why I'm in trouble. I only stated fact. You have a nice body, Hermione."  
  
"It's the principle of the thing."  
  
"Hermione, you haven't talked to me in three weeks! I think I learned my lesson. From now on, you have a scraggily old woman body!"  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
Hermione shot out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a bra.  
  
"I take that back. Hermione, you're gorgeous," Harry responded, his eyes drawn to Hermione's body.  
  
Hermione realized her situation and ran back to her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Harry's laugh rang off the walls in the hallway.  
  
"Come on, Hermione! Get dressed! We've got to get going if I'm going to make it in time for practice."  
  
Hermione's hand shot to her mouth. In her mock anger at Harry, she had completely forgotten about the World Cup.  
  
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Harry! I'm late, and I don't even have a dress for the Gala tonight!"  
  
"What makes you think you're going tonight?"  
  
Suddenly, the drawers stop slamming. The door creaked open and Hermione's nose poked out.  
  
"I didn't mean to be presumptuous, Harry. I'm sorry."  
  
Harry tried to keep a straight face as he looked at Hermione peaking from behind the door. He walked over to the door, keeping himself eye level with Hermione.  
  
"Serves you right. If you must know I'm taking someone from the Ministry with me tonight. You seemed like you didn't want to have much to do with me these past three weeks."  
  
"Oh. Well, that's great for you. Who is it?"  
  
"Oh, just one of the researchers. Brown hair, brown eyes. Maybe you know her?"  
  
"If she works in research, I might."  
  
"Goes by the name snobby-know-it-all. I think someone told me her real name was Hermione Granger though."  
  
With reflexes born from years of Quidditch, Harry deposited a quick kiss on Hermione's nose before darting away out of arm's reach.  
  
"Harry! I hate you!"  
  
"Sure you do! Let's go! And about the dress, it's Paris, Hermione. I'm sure you can find something before tonight. Ginny's coming along with Draco, so you two can go. Just put on a jumper and get your arse out here."  
  
Harry walked from the flat, Hermione on his heels moments later. The friends descended the steps into Ollivander's, and after waving good bye to Mr. Ollivander, made for the street.  
  
"Good luck tomorrow, Harry! We'll be rooting for you."  
  
"Thanks, Mr. Ollivander. I'll be back in a few days for the back to school rush," Harry called as they walked out the door.  
  
Unfortunately, walking out the door wasn't the best idea. They were immediately surrounded by reporters, who immediately jumped to conclusions.  
  
"Mr. Potter! Have you finally started dating Ms. Granger?" an over-zealous reporter called.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Of course not. Hermione has had a flat here with Ron and I since we left Hogwarts."  
  
"Mr. Potter! Is it true she's accompanying you tonight to the Gala?"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Of course she is! She always comes with me."  
  
"Ms. Granger, what will you be wearing tonight? Something to draw Harry's attention, I'm sure."  
  
"Hermione's buying her dress when we arrive in Paris. And, I don't like your implications, Ms. Jennings. Say something like that about Hermione again, and the post game interview is off."  
  
"Harry! Hermione!"  
  
Harry's head shifted towards the high-pitched voice that was calling his attention. He finally saw in the back of the crowd a small red head jumping up and down trying to get his attention.  
  
"If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Malfoy is here. We're leaving."  
  
Harry took Hermione's hand and pulled her through the crowd, Hermione being shocked by the crowd. They pushed through a few more over anxious reporters and made their way over to Ginny and Draco.  
  
"Gin. I'm sorry. Crazy here before a match." Harry took the young red head into a brief hug before turning to her husband. "Draco. How are you, mate?"  
  
Harry extended his hand warmly to Draco.  
  
"Not too bad. You seem to draw some attention to yourself."  
  
"Unintentionally, I assure you."  
  
Hermione moved to Harry's side, hugging Ginny and sharing a kiss on the cheek with Draco.  
  
"How are you both?"  
  
"Wonderful. Let's get out of here." Draco motioned to the crowd of reporters that were starting to migrate over to the group.  
  
Harry took Hermione's hand and with a wave of his hand the two instantly appeared in front of the French Quidditch stadium. The hype around it was incredible. For the first time in over 25 years, the United States Nation Team had made the Quidditch Cup finals. And, the fact that Harry Potter was playing in the game pulled an even larger crowd. Hermione looked around her, marveling how so many magical people could be in the same area without the muggles getting suspicious. Then again, she had helped to design the spell that went over the entire area, so some of it was nothing of a mystery to her.  
  
Harry took both of her hands and turned her towards him.  
  
"You'll be alright with Ginny, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"Good. I'll be back to the room we have at like five, and we'll leave at six. So that gives you 3 hours. You can find the hotel?"  
  
"We were here last year, Harry."  
  
"Alright, alright. Be careful okay? Take my Gringott's key. Stick to the Wizard shops and use the key to pay for the dress."  
  
Harry kissed the palm of his hand and pressed it to Hermione's forehead before she could protest and thrust the key into Hermione's hand, and turned for the locker rooms. Draco kissed his wife as well and started towards the grounds to make some final preparations for the next day.  
  
Ginny looped her arm through Hermione's and gave her an evil smile.  
  
"We have Harry's Potter's Gringott's key. We are going to find you the best dress EVER!"  
  
Hermione laughed at her best girl friend and started down the street.  
  
"So, how is the whole Harry-thing going?"  
  
"It's futile, Ginny. He has his eye on some other witch or something. He was saying something to Ron a couple weeks ago about wanting to say something to her. It's pointless to fawn over him."  
  
Ginny smiled weakly at Hermione. Besides her mother, Ginny was the only one who knew about Hermione's crush on Harry.  
  
"Well, we're going to blow him away tonight with your dress. There will be no other witches on his mind but you."  
  
Ginny tugged Hermione into the first shop and slapped Harry's key on the front desk.  
  
"Ms. Hermione Granger needs a dress for the World Cup Gala tonight! We're using Harry Potter's Gringott's key so give us the best you've got."  
  
The witch behind the counter picked up the key and placed it into a weird contraption that give her a read out when she turned it. Her eyes widened and she read the names of Hermione Granger and Ginny Malfoy on the approved users list and widened even more when she saw how much money was available in the vault.  
  
"Of course Mrs. Malfoy. Ms. Granger. What color will Mr. Potter be wearing tonight?"  
  
"Um, I never really asked him. I'm sure it's some variation of black and emerald green. He never wears anything but."  
  
Ginny nodded in agreement.  
  
"If we want to be sure, I can check the records of the shop he bought his outfit from?"  
  
"You can do that with a vault key?!" Hermione asked incredulously.  
  
"Of course, Hermione dear. This is the 21st century after all." Ginny threw Hermione a smile as the witch went back to her computer.  
  
"I won't tell you the style, but I can tell you that you were exactly right on the colors. We've just got some dresses in the emerald green last night. Let's see what we have."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
"Ginny! We've been here for almost two hours. I feel like I've tried on every dress in this shop."  
  
There was silence from the back room and suddenly she heard Ginny gasp.  
  
"'ermione, I found it!" came Ginny's muffled voice  
  
Ginny came shooting out of the back room with a pile of deep emerald green silk in her hands.  
  
"This is the last one. If this isn't the best dress you've ever seen, we'll go and transfigure one for you!"  
  
Hermione sighed, but took the dress from Ginny. In the dressing room, Hermione slipped the silk over her head. As the dress fell in turrets around her, she looked into the mirror. It was a bit tighter than she was used to, but it was perfect.  
  
"Ginny! This is the one!" Hermione pushed her way out of the dressing room.  
  
"Oh my God! Hermione! It's even better on you!"  
  
Hermione picked up the price tag on the dress and tried to stifle a gasp.  
  
"Ginny, we can't buy this. It'll kill Harry's money - - "  
  
"I assure you, Ms. Granger, that Harry has enough money in his account to afford about 10 of these dresses and 10 matching tuxedos."  
  
Hermione turned around in front of the mirror again.  
  
"Alright. I'll take it." 


	5. The Gala, The Cup, and The Australian Ph...

A/N: So, here I am again. Back finally with a little inspiration. Sorry the chapter is uber short, but we've had things to do **hinthintOotP**. The next chapter is actually half written, so it shouldn't be too long before I update again. Thanks for all the splendid reviews everyone, and keep them coming. I'd love to see 100 reviews before I even get chapter 6 out *is hopeful*. Like I said before, I still need a beta for my WIP "Room for Squares" and the last couple chapters of this one, so let me know OK?  
  
The song is from Monty Python, from a sketch that actually exists. MAJOR plot holes are existing in this chapter, but I take it in stride because I'm a chintzy writer. Love you all. **Toodle-loo!**  
  
Chapter 5: The Gala, The Cup and The Australian Philosopher's Drinking Song  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Wind rushed across Harry's face as he dove towards the ground in pursuit of the Snitch. It was true he was late to meet up with Hermione, but there was something about flying that eased the growing anticipation in his stomach. He could see Hermione in his mind, sitting impatiently on the couch in the hotel, ready way too early, as always. He smiled as he grabbed the Snitch effortlessly and pulled out of the dive. He looked at his watch and sighed, pulling his broom around, and landing softly on the grass.  
  
"Looking good, Potter. Very impressive!"  
  
Harry turned to see Oliver Wood sitting in the stands. Harry smiled and strode towards him. Oliver met him halfway.  
  
"Thanks. I wavered on the dive a little though," Harry responded, reaching his hand out to shake Oliver's.  
  
"You couldn't tell from down here. You are going tonight, right?"  
  
"Of course. Couldn't pass up a chance to make a rustle with the press with Hermione. Should be a blast. Draco was working on the table assignments a couple of nights ago. Guess he decided to place Oliver Wood and "Guest" with the infamous trio, the little sister, and the arch-enemy."  
  
"He has a sense of humor, that Malfoy. Should be a good time. Shouldn't you be getting back to the hotel? How is the Hermione situation anyway?"  
  
Harry groaned outright. Oliver laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"It'll get better. I'll see you later tonight."  
  
Oliver disappeared and Harry followed suit, apparating into his bedroom at the hotel.  
  
"Harry, it that you?"  
  
"I would hope so!" he answered, stepping into the bathroom. "Let me take a shower and I'll get dressed and we can go."  
  
He heard Hermione give an impatient sigh as he closed the door, chuckling to him self.  
  
*~*  
  
Straightening his bow tie, he took one last deep breath and reached for the doorknob. As the door squeaked open, Hermione stood up quickly, her dress falling around her. Harry's mouth almost hit the floor.  
  
The deep green satin pooled at her feet lightly and Harry's eyes followed the dress line up. It was tighter than the usual Hermione dress, but it looked amazing on her. His eyes traveled to the neckline and he almost lost himself completely.  
  
"You have a chest!"  
  
Harry's hand clapped to his mouth as soon as the words ended.  
  
"Oh my god, Hermione! I'm so sorry!"  
  
Hermione giggled at Harry's reaction.  
  
"Jeez, Hermione, you look amazing. Gorgeous. Beautiful. I've run out of adjectives to describe it. None of them would do you justice."  
  
"You don't look too bad yourself, Harry. A suit with tails, huh?" Hermione walked around Harry slowly, taking in his outfit. Harry's head tried to follow her around him.  
  
"Hold still, Harry."  
  
Harry straightened himself and Hermione completed her slow circle around him.  
  
"Do I meet your approval?"  
  
"Quite well. Let's go."  
  
*~*  
  
"John Stuart Mill, of his own free will, after half a bottle of Chianti was particularly ill. Plato they say could stick it away, 'alf a crate of whiskey everyday. Aristotle, Aristotle, was a bugger for the bottle. Hobbes was fond of his dram. Rene Descartes was a drunken fart. 'I drink therefore I am!' Socrates himself is particularly missed. A lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed!"  
  
Harry, Oliver, Ron, Draco and Hermione collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles. Harry reached for his beer, but was sorely upset when he found it not there.  
  
"Harry, you've had enough," Ginny chided, picking up the remainder of the beer bottles. Harry scoffed, but got over it and climbed to the tabletop.  
  
"I just want to let this pub know that England will always have the greatest team ever!"  
  
A chorus of cheers answered Harry. Harry smiled a cheesy half smile and staggered a bit.  
  
"We won the fucking Quidditch World Cup!"  
  
"Hell yeah we did!" Jeffry O'Neill answered, slipping slightly from his barstool.  
  
Katie Bell was trying to get Hermione back into a chair off the floor, but was failing horribly, as she was quite drunk herself. Ginny sat and watched her friends amusedly and after Katie and Hermione fell back to the ground in a heap, tried to help them up.  
  
Draco placed himself in a chair next to his wife.  
  
"We should head back to the rooms. Harry's had a bit too much tonight, and I daresay Hermione's at her limit. Harry will have his interviews to attend to tomorrow."  
  
Hermione tried to brush him off with her hand and fell from her chair again.  
  
"Perhaps I have had a little bit too much."  
  
Harry cackled wildly and attempted to pull Hermione to her feet. He staggered a bit, but managed to stay upright and made to head for the door. Ginny rose quickly and stopped them, then returned to the table to collect her handbag and husband. Ron, his date (a random ministry witch from the Department of Magical Games and Sports), Oliver, and Katie followed after them.  
  
They made their way, barely, to the elevator and each group collapsed into their own room.  
  
Harry and Hermione felt into their couch like dead logs. Harry regained himself enough to look at Hermione and smile.  
  
"You really are beautiful 'Mione."  
  
Hermione giggled and slumped onto Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Thanks, Harry."  
  
*~*~*~* 


	6. Kittens and Konversations

Chapter 6: Which contains a new kitten with an inappropriate name and a late night couch conversation (a.k.a. Kittens and Konversations)  
  
*~*  
  
Harry pried his eyes open. As the sun struck them, he thought twice about waking up. Until something soft moved under his head.  
  
"Morning Harry."  
  
"Glurg."  
  
"That's pleasant."  
  
Hermione tried to sit up but was pounded by her headache back down into the couch again.  
  
"How much did I drink last night?"  
  
"Too much, I think." Harry steadied himself and tried to stand up slowly. "My head. Jeez."  
  
A slow knock rang through the hotel room and Harry tried to make his way to the door. He finally reached it and wrenched the door open. His favorite reporter stood expectantly at the door.  
  
"Good morning, Harry."  
  
"What's so good about it, Marie?"  
  
Harry let Marie Jennings into the hotel room. Hermione was still balled on the couch, having fallen back asleep quickly.  
  
"Well, you won the Quidditch World Cup, that's what. And you promised me an interview this morning."  
  
"Always the highlight of my day. Budge over, Hermione."  
  
Hermione's legs jerked up to make room for Harry.  
  
"So, I'm sure you want to know how I feel about winning the Cup. Can I say that I'll get back to you when my memory from last night returns?"  
  
Marie laughed and pulled up a chair to sit across from Harry.  
  
"Never one to not enjoy the festivities, are you?"  
  
"Of course not. If I didn't, no one would have the angle of 'Harry Potter, the boozing partier'."  
  
Hermione chuckled lightly from the couch.  
  
"How is she?" Marie asked, looking pointedly at Hermione.  
  
"She'll be perfectly fine once Katie and Ginny make the hangover potion. She's usually the one who's up first." Harry reached over and rubbed Hermione's back lightly. "She just over did it a little last night."  
  
Marie laughed and pulled out a notebook.  
  
"So, Harry, how does it feel to win the Quidditch World Cup?"  
  
*~*  
  
"Marie always does such a nice job with your interviews," Hermione commented setting down the Daily Prophet.  
  
"Mm-hm," Harry replied, half-heartedly.  
  
"What's up, Harry?"  
  
"I want to get a kitten."  
  
"A kitten?"  
  
"Sure. Why not?"  
  
"I never thought of you as the kitten type."  
  
"I thought we discussed I didn't have a type."  
  
"You can hardly take care of yourself, much less a kitten."  
  
"Hermione!" Harry protested.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Fine! We'll get a kitten."  
  
*~*  
  
A squeaking door from her hallway forced Hermione awake with a jolt. She sat up and listened carefully, hearing very little from the room outside her bedroom. She heard the pattering of little feet on her hardwood floor and the squeaking of couch springs before she figured out what was going on. Harry was having trouble sleeping again and had chosen her couch to come sleep on.  
  
It had been a while since Harry had settled on her couch for the night, and his presence there worried Hermione. She waited a few moments to make sure he was settled and walked to the door. As she opened the door, her eyes rested on Harry, snuggled under a fleece blanket, his kitten perched on his stomach.  
  
He had chosen to call the kitten Ashrum, Kitty of Darkness, but in any other category but looks, a Kitty of Darkness he was not. Especially not at that moment. His head rest in one of Harry's out-stretched hands, purring in delight as Harry ran his fingers along the kitten's body.  
  
There was something about Harry's hand that drew Hermione's gaze. His fingers seemed to barely touch the fur, lightly grazing over the kitten's neck. He seemed so tender with his movements. His eyes fluttered open and rested on Hermione's figure in her doorframe.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"It's okay, Harry. You alright?"  
  
"Just couldn't sleep I guess." He scratched lightly on the kitten's throat, the cat emitting a high-pitched squeak. Harry chuckled. "If you're going to strike fear in the hearts of the wicked, we're definitely going to have to work on that meow of yours."  
  
Chuckling, Hermione sat on the edge of the couch.  
  
"Hermione, can I ask you a question?"  
  
Hermione nodded and reached for the kitten's head, accidentally brushing her fingertips over Harry's palm. She felt Harry give a shudder at the contact.  
  
"I'm a pretty likeable guy, right?"  
  
"You're the best Harry."  
  
"Right. And I'm attractive? At least from a girl's perspective?"  
  
"You are devastatingly handsome. Though the hair could use some work." Hermione picked gingerly at Harry's hair.  
  
"You joke, Hermione, but I'm being serious."  
  
"What's with the new found insecurity, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"Well, there's this girl, and I've been trying to get her to notice me for a while now. But she always seems to look past me when it comes to getting involved."  
  
"Why would she do a silly thing like that? You ask me this girl is daft."  
  
"Well, she kinda is. In this great, amazing, loving sort of way, she's completely nutters. But something draws me to her." Harry studied Hermione's face as she started to think.  
  
Hermione was raging on the inside. How dare he come to her about this kind of thing! Didn't he care how she felt? Didn't he think before he spoke? Didn't he - - Then again, how was he supposed to know? She had never really told him how she felt.  
  
She felt Harry collect himself mentally as he sat up slowly, sending Ashrum down towards his feet.  
  
"Tell me about her, Harry."  
  
"Well, she's smart, and beautiful. Extremely loyal and honest. She tells me all the time how great I am." Harry paused and inhaled deeply. "She's accompanied me to every Quidditch Gala, Party, and Banquet I've ever been to. She likes to clean my flat, and always know exactly where my favorite jumper is. She likes to make toast at three in the morning and drink tea after work. Her favorite food is chocolate Bernie Bott's Beans, but she wouldn't turn down a Cinnamon one if you asked her. She hates beer and whiskey, but is a riot when she's pissed. She has protection spells on her bookcases, but leaves her parent's car door unlocked on the side of the road. She fixes me hangover potions and let's me sleep on her couch when I have nightmares. She's my best friend. And I think I love her."  
  
Hermione sat silent and rigid, staring at her ceiling fan.  
  
"Now that you've divulged your secrets to me, can I have a turn?"  
  
Harry nodded and picked Ashrum up from his feet.  
  
"So this guy I know. He has these quirky little habits. He likes to eat cheese, and chocolate. He likes to cook for me, and is constantly losing things, like clothes and such. He listens to old Muggle music. And these little quirks he has are so adorable. And he told me not too long ago that he loved me. And it's strange."  
  
"What's strange about it?"  
  
"Well, I've never known him to be the type of guy to go out and get what he wants. He always leaves it up to someone else. He has this way about him. He's so careful with things. He never rushes."  
  
Silence feel between the two friends. A weird tension hung in the air, which was only broken by Ashrum's steady purring.  
  
"And I think the strangest part is that I love him too."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
So, there's what you all were waiting for! A couple more chapters will wrap this one up, but I have another story in the works (Hr/H of course!) So, enjoy the happiness while it's here, because Room for Squares is going to be a bit angsty in the beginning, but won't depart from my usual style. Thanks for reading, and review as always! 


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